


Easier said than done

by UnZafiroEspumoso



Series: Say yes to forever [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anthea is amazing, Caring Mycroft, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Greg has the patience of a saint, Loving Greg, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft is a bit slow, POV Greg, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sick Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnZafiroEspumoso/pseuds/UnZafiroEspumoso
Summary: Sometimes when you want something so badly, you forget how hard it can be to actually get it. But, Greg had always been told that persistence pays off - and he was nothing if not determined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I did not expect to be writing another fic so soon but after watching TFP and doing my university exams I felt the need to cheer myself up! Although, I can't promise this will be entirely angst free... Enjoy!

“I want to propose” Greg declared to John, just as the latter was taking a long sip of his beer. Greg had been expecting a number of reactions from the man in front of him, but snorting into his drink and then proceeding to have a coughing fit to avoid from choking hadn’t been one of them. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry” John said sheepishly between coughs, as he moved to mop up the beer he’d spilt with one of the spare mats. Greg glared at him over the top of his drink, well aware of the disapproving looks the rest of the pubs patrons were sending their way. The pair of them were sat in their local watering hole, tucked away in a quiet corner away from prying eyes and ears. At least they had been, until John had attracted all of the attention their way. “You could have given me some warning before springing that one on me” John joked, as he placed the now soggy beer mats at the edge of the table.

“I don’t see why your surprised, it’s not even you I’m asking” Greg countered a little too sharply as he took a swig of his drink. He knew that telling John would be a bad idea, but there really wasn’t any one else he could talk to about his plans. In truth, he had a feeling the whole notion of asking Mycroft to be his husband would prove to be disaster, but lately he couldn’t get the idea of them being officially married out of his head. 

They had been together for around five years now, although they had known each other for a good while longer. Meeting as a result of a younger Sherlock’s drug fuelled antics and arrests due to his penchant for crashing the inspectors’ crime scenes, Mycroft had quickly established himself as a staple feature in Greg’s life. Initially, he had been a thorn in the inspectors side due to his ability to be waiting rather smugly every night for Greg to haul his brother into the Yard, release papers for Sherlock already in hand before Greg had even gotten Sherlock near a cell. In the end, Greg had stopped bothering to arrest Sherlock much to the latter’s amusement, although he still kept seeing Mycroft at regular intervals to discuss Sherlock’s wellbeing. Despite the arrogance the man possessed, Greg couldn't help but feel an instant attraction to the mysterious Holmes brother along with a desire to get to know the man better. But, his marriage to his then wife had prevented him from pursing it any further, even if he had wanted to. 

This, however, had all changed after the collapse of Greg's marriage. The divorce was anything but clean and Greg had often found himself seeking Mycroft's company during that difficult time. Greg had no doubt that the two of them were friends, but without his marriage to keep him in check he had started to find it difficult to keep his feelings around the man at a just friends level. One evening, after a particularly harrowing day at the office, Greg had once again found himself seeking refuge in the luxury of Mycroft’s home. Sensing the inspectors mood, Mycroft had poured him a drink which proceeded to turn into two, then three. That evening they had ended up indulging in numerous glasses of the finest whisky, losing track of time whilst they talked about everything and nothing.

Eventually, when Greg got up to leave several hours later he had found himself unable to stand without swaying and so had stumbled rather gracelessly into Mycroft, who ended up grabbing him round the middle in an attempt to keep him upright. As a result, Greg had found himself pressed firmly up against Mycroft - the very man he had dreamed about for years. Staring up into the elder Holmes' dazzling eyes, he had found himself mesmerised by the seemingly endless pools of blue there. Therefore, it came as a mild surprise to him when he felt his lips crash into Mycroft's, seemingly unaware that he had even moved. What surprised him even more was the feeling of Mycroft kissing him back with just as much passion. From there, things had quickly escalated but they had somehow managed to keep it together to stumble into the bedroom. The next morning, Greg had awoken from the soundest sleep he had had in ages, curled up tightly around Mycroft's smaller frame. From that night on, Greg had happily awoken many times in this fashion. 

Still, marriage hadn’t always been at the forefront of Greg’s mind when it came to his relationship with Mycroft. In fact, until about two months ago he hadn’t even thought about it. It wasn’t because he didn’t love his partner, because the exact opposite of that was true. It was more to do with the fact that the pair of them were happy as they were; Greg didn’t want to ruin the equilibrium they had with a marriage proposal. 

Then the situation with Euros happened and everything had changed. In the aftermath, Greg had realised how close he had come to losing his partner, and not just in a physical sense. In the weeks afterwards Mycroft had withdrawn into himself, pushing Greg away. It reminded Greg of how his lover had been at the start of their relationship, pretending to be cold as form of defence. Luckily he knew what Mycroft was doing - being self-sacrificing in an attempt to protect him. Therefore, Greg had made sure that he redoubled his efforts to show the man that no matter the threat, he would continue to stand proudly by his side. Thankfully, Mycroft had come to his senses and their relationship was now stronger than ever. 

“Don’t be like that” John said, brining Greg back to the present. The doctor had by now composed himself from his impromptu laughing fit. “It was the thought of Mycroft standing at the altar with a bouquet of flowers flashing through my head that set me off” John added, smiling lopsidedly at Greg who had to admit that the image did have a certain funny quality to it. 

“Well, what do you think?” Greg pushed, wanting his friends opinion. Over the years, the two of them had become quite close, with Greg often going to John for advice – especially on how to deal with a Holmes. 

“I think that if you’re certain about it you should go for it” John replied seriously, looking Greg in the eyes. Greg licked his lips suddenly nervous about his next question, “do you think he will say yes?” John mulled it over slightly, not wanting to give Greg false hope. But then again he prided himself on being a good reader of people, and he knew the depth of Mycroft’s affection for the inspector - even though he tried to hide it. “I think he will almost definitely say yes” he replied finally.

Greg let out the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. Of course, he knew the way Mycroft felt about him, but sometimes it helped to be told that by someone else. “So, what type of ring do you think he’d go for? Something discreet so he wouldn't have to worry about it drawing too much attention. I was thinking white gold, I reckon it would look good on him. Not sure about an engraving though, maybe that’s too cliché?” Greg rushed out, his mind turning a mile a minute as he let himself think of the endless possibilities. John chuckled to himself, “sounds like you already have good idea about what you want”.

Greg stopped, flushing slightly. “Yeah well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot you know, since the incident” he said.

“No need to justify yourself to me, just tell me how it goes when you ask him.” John replied, draining his drink.

“Don’t worry I will, do you want to be the one to tell Sherlock or shall I?” Greg replied, smiling widely at John.

“I do believe you can have that honour” John said smoothly, checking his phone. “Speaking of the devil” he muttered as he saw several unread messages from the aforementioned detective. “As much as I would like to have another one with you, his lordship calls” John said reluctantly, holding up his phone to show Greg the increasingly annoyed tone of Sherlock’s messages. 

“No problem mate, you probably don't want to keep him waiting. Besides, think I might go myself - after all I have some shopping to do” Greg replied, pulling on his coat whilst walking with John to the exit. 

“Well, good luck with it then” John said, throwing Greg one last smile before turning and heading to meet Sherlock. Greg waved a hand in return, before he too turned and set off in the direction of the high street.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg sighed as he stirred the pasta sauce, once again wondering if it needed more seasoning. He didn’t know why he was so worried, after all it was just a simple carbonara one which he had made plenty of times before. Normally when he made this dish the only thing that worried him was doing his grandmothers recipe justice, but tonight his mind was preoccupied for an entirely different reason. Wiping his hands on his apron, he glanced at the clock on the wall and gauged how much time he had left to get ready before his partner got home. 

Turning back to the sauce, he added just a pinch more salt before lowering the heat and leaving it to simmer. He took his apron off and laid it over the back of a chair, taking a breath in attempt to calm himself down. For the last week it had felt like his mind had been working in overdrive, desperately trying to get everything ready for this evening. Thankfully, he had the wonder that was known as Anthea to help organise Mycroft’s schedule so that he would have the weekend off. Of course, there was always the risk that he would be called away in the event of a genuine global emergency arising, but Greg just had to hope that the world leaders could at least leave their game of tit-for-tit alone for one weekend. 

Knowing he was up against the clock, Greg quickly dashed upstairs to get changed. He hurriedly shifted through his rather sparse wardrobe, trying to find something appropriate to wear. He didn’t want to put on anything too fancy and have Mycroft guessing what he was up to. At the same time, he at least wanted to look like he had made an effort. He settled on jeans and a loose white shirt which Mycroft always seemed to like, although he spent most of his time trying to get Greg out of it. 

After checking himself in the mirror one last time, he opened his sock drawer and tentatively felt around for the small unassuming black box which he placed in there a few days earlier. He had been worried about Mycroft accidently finding the ring he had bought, so had endeavoured to find somewhere that his boyfriend would have little reason to look. He figured the sock draw was as good a place as any. His hand finally closed around the box and he gently pulled it out. Carefully, he opened it and the ring he had chosen glinted up at him, reflecting the rooms' soft light. It was a rather discreet ring, a simple white gold band which wouldn’t draw too much attention. As he looked down at it, he felt his heart flutter at the prospect of what he was about to do. He quickly shook himself out of his reverie, not wanting to run out of time at the last minute before having the chance to finish preparing everything. He stood and pocketed the box with the ring in, before going back downstairs to add the finishing touches to the table and meal. 

He was just putting the pasta on to boil when he heard the front door open and close. Even though they had been together for so long, Greg could never tire of greeting his lover after a long day at work. Mycroft was busy propping his umbrella up in the stand just as he emerged from the kitchen. Greg smiled as he crept stealthily up on his partner, encircling him from behind and planting small kisses on his neck. Mycroft jumped slightly before letting out a laugh and leaning back into Greg’s embrace. Greg smiled against his lovers' neck upon hearing his laughter, it was a sound very few people got to hear and for that he felt incredibly grateful. Carefully, almost as if he would break, he turned Mycroft around in his arms so that he could place a proper kiss on his lips. 

“Hey” he whispered against his boyfriends' mouth, as he stole another kiss.

“Hi” Mycroft replied as he reached up to thread his fingers through Greg’s hair, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Greg let him, and for the next few minutes they just stayed there, in hallway, stealing each-others breath away. Reluctantly Greg broke the kiss and pulled back, taking in the sight of a slightly disheveled Mycroft – frankly it was an image he would never get bored of. “Please tell me there is a good reason for stopping” Mycroft gasped, struggling to get his breath back. As much as Greg wanted to carry on, that wasn’t the plan for tonight. At least not yet. 

“Trust me, there is” he answered, giving Mycroft one last quick peck before disappearing back into the kitchen, expecting to be followed. He was draining the pasta off when he heard a soft gasp which signaled his partner’s entry into the room. “Gregory” Mycroft sighed as he took in the sight of all Greg’s hard work. The dining table was located at the far end of the kitchen. On it had been placed a candle which was burning away softly, its flame casting a warm glow on the beautiful vase of roses and bottle wine which Greg had set the table with.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Greg who was busy plating up their dinner. “To what do I owe this amazing pleasure” he said softly, as he opened the wine and poured them both a glass. 

“What, can’t I treat my gorgeous partner every once in a while” Greg replied smoothly, watching as a blush crept up Mycroft’s neck at being called gorgeous. “You are you know” he whispered against Mycroft’s ear as placed the plates of carbonara down.

“This is incredible” Mycroft groaned almost obscenely, as he tucked into the pasta. 

“I’m sure my grandmother would be incredibly happy with your seal of approval” Greg chuckled, pleased that his partner was enjoying it. 

Mycroft nodded in agreement, his eyes sliding shut as he savoured the flavour of the dish. They settled into a comfortable silence, each content to enjoy the good food and company. The night continued to progress at a comfortable pace with both men laughing and joking with each other. It wasn't long before they finished the meal and with it the first bottle of wine. “Please tell me you have another one of those hidden away somewhere” Mycroft asked, smiling over the top of his empty glass. 

“Surely you of all people would know if I had a stash of ridiculously posh wine hidden away” Greg replied, smiling back as he cleared their plates off the table. He could feel Mycroft’s gaze on him as bent to load the dish washer. “Now Gregory, I do believe in allowing people privacy” Mycroft said, a slight trace of sarcasm in his tone. Greg laughed and went to fetch another bottle, stopping to kiss Mycroft again on his way out. He could never resist the man when he was like this, all calm and relaxed and scarily human. 

Greg did indeed have a small stash of alcohol but it was hardly a secret, he knew that after a long day his partner often helped himself to a drink or two from it. He glanced over the selection of wine that he had accumulated and decided on a bottle of Sauvignon. He started to make his way back to the kitchen, but stopped halfway there to get his breathing back under control. He had decided that he would pop the question just before opening this bottle, and that thought alone had sent his heart unexpectedly racing, He took a few more steadying breaths before continuing back to the dining room and his waiting partner.

Any thoughts Greg had of proposing immediately went out of his head when he saw Mycroft stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his face half set into its blank mask Greg stopped short at the look on his partners’ face and placed the wine down on the table. “I guess we won’t be opening another bottle tonight” he said, trying to sound humorous but voice falling flat. 

“I’m sorry Gregory, its’ an emergency” Mycroft said, a genuine look of sadness slipping across his face. A concerned look crept into his eyes at the downcast appearance of his boyfriend. 

“It's fine, can’t be helped” Greg replied, trying for a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes. Of course, Mycroft noticed this and dropped his mask completely before pulling his partner into a warm hug. Greg let him, and he found himself clutching desperately at Mycroft, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

“I’m sorry for ruining all your hard work” Mycroft whispered into his ear, kissing it lightly whilst holding Greg gently.

“It’s fine, really these things happen” Greg replied, but continued to hold onto his lover. It was true, many an evening had ended with one of them been called away unexpectedly. It never normally bothered Greg, after all it was just part of the life that the pair of them led and they knew this. But tonight wasn’t supposed to have been a normal night. Instead it was supposed to have been one of the happiest nights ever for the pair of them. Damn foreign ambassadors, he thought bitterly cursing them all to hell and back. Still, he reluctantly pulled away from his lovers embrace, giving Mycroft one last kiss that was a little too chaste. “Go, save the world” he whispered against his lips. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can” he replied, giving Greg one last smile before morphing back into official mode and making his way out of the flat and into the waiting car outside.

Greg stared at the unopened bottle of wine on the table and sighed. He knew that he would have plenty of other opportunities to propose, but he couldn’t help the feeling of frustration welling up in him. He moved the bottle back to its place in his stash and went to get changed into something more comfortable. Upon entering the bedroom, Greg flicked on the TV, an old episode of Steptoe and Son appearing on the screen. Figuring he needed a laugh he left it on and started to get changed. As he was pulling his shirt off, he heard his phone chime.

_I’m sorry Inspector, there was a genuine emergency. As you know, it is Mycroft’s birthday in a few weeks’ time, I have already ensured his schedule be cleared - A_

Greg smiled at the text, silently thanking Anthea - he really would have to see about sending her some flowers. He carefully pulled the ring box out of his trouser pocket and put it back into the sock drawer. Once he was finished getting changed, he crawled into bed and let out a yawn. All the day’s emotions seemed to have taken their toll, so he decided he might as well just settle down in bed and watch TV for the rest of the night. As he watched Harold and his father arguing over wallpaper, he let his mind drift off, already making plans for Mycroft’s birthday.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg rubbed his temples as he signed off on the last piece of paper work. It had been a long day, made worse by the fact that he had been nursing the beginnings of a cold since he had gotten up. Of all the days for him to get ill, it had to be today. He cursed softly under his breath as he checked the time, realising how late it had gotten. He hadn’t intended on still been at the Yard at this time, but a double homicide had come in just after lunch forcing him to stay. 

Still, it hadn’t had too much of an effect on his plans for the evening. He knew that his partner wouldn’t have wanted anything too extravagant for his birthday anyway, so he had decided on reserving a table for them both at their favourite restaurant. The only real difference to tonight would be that Mycroft would be meeting him here at his workplace, instead of at home. This also meant he wouldn’t be able to go home to get changed and more importantly get the ring. But, he figured it wouldn’t matter too much as he would just have to propose when they got home which would probably be better anyway. 

He stood, the movement causing his muscles to seize up as a result of been sat down for so long. Wincing, he stretched trying to get some feeling back into his arms. The movement helped to ease the tension slightly, but the throbbing pain and stiffness that he had been feeling all day remained. Knowing that he didn’t have any paracetamol handy, he figured he would just have to hope his condition wouldn’t get any worse before the evening was over. 

He was just pulling his jacket on when a knock at the door drew his attention. In the doorway stood his partner, looking rather dashing in a long dark coat and lush blue scarf that really brought out his eyes. A smile spread across Greg’s face as he took in the sight of his boyfriend.

“Hello, Gregory” Mycroft said, somewhat shyly which caused Greg to smile even more.

“Hey, just give me a minute to finish straightening up” he replied, before picking up the files on his desk and plonking them into the cabinet. He would sort them out properly tomorrow, when he didn’t have a stunning looking Mycroft to distract him. Mycroft had moved further into the room, and was waiting patiently for his lover to finish what he was doing. Greg made his way over to where he was stood and pulled him into a hug. “Happy Birthday, love” he whispered into Mycroft’s ear, kissing it lightly and nuzzling into Mycroft’s neck. 

“Thank you” Mycroft murmured, his face buried in Greg’s neck, inhaling the inspectors’ scent. Greg let him, content to just feel Mycroft’s embrace – he needed it after the day he’d had. He sighed discontentedly when Mycroft pulled back slightly to look Greg in the eye, a look of slight concern on his face. 

“Gregory, you feel a little warm are you okay" he questioned softly, gently placing a cool hand across Greg’s forehead. 

“Fine, just have a bit of a cold coming on” he lied, he had the feeling it was a rather big cold approaching but he hoped Mycroft would take his word for it. 

“Perhaps we should just head home” Mycroft suggested, only to be met with a cross face. The last thing Greg wanted was for Mycroft to cancel their plans on account his cold. 

“Mycroft Holmes, we are not spending your birthday at home!” Greg said forcefully, giving Mycroft a defiant look. He was determined to give Mycroft the birthday he deserved, cold be damned. 

“Well alright then, but maybe it would be better if we took the car” he queried. Seen as the restaurant was fairly close to where Greg worked, they had decided that they might as well enjoy a nice walk through London instead of taking the car. 

“I appreciate your concern love, but really I’ll be fine. Besides, the fresh air might do me some good” Greg replied swiftly. Although he had the feeling the car might be the better option, he wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity to take a walk with his partner - especially since it was such a rarity that either had the time to enjoy such endeavours.   
Mycroft nodded his head slightly in response – he couldn’t really argue with Greg on that front, but he still didn’t look entirely convinced. 

“Well then, shall we go” Greg said, moving quickly towards the door to avoid anymore protests from his concerned lover. 

“Wait a minute” Mycroft called, causing Greg to stop and turn back around. Mycroft moved to stand in front of Greg again. He carefully removed his scarf and wrapped it snugly around the inspectors’ neck. “There, now we are ready to go” Mycroft finished, before taking Greg’s hand and leading him out. 

***

It wasn’t a long walk to the Italian they liked, and they spent most of it in a comfortable silence. Greg, for one, was glad for this because he was already slightly out of breath as it was without the extra exertion of having to talk as well. They walked with their arms linked, giving Greg an excuse to slightly shift some of his weight onto Mycroft, he had begun to feel rather tired despite having only walked a short way. If Mycroft noticed this (which of course he did) he didn’t say anything, but he did slow their pace a little. As they walked, Greg let himself think of how far they had come. At the start of their relationship Mycroft had refused any sort of physical contact in public, treating Greg as if he had the plague. Now, it was the Holmes brother who often initiated the touches, no longer caring what everyone else thought. It still marvelled Greg how much the elder Holmes had changed over the years. 

By the time they reached their destination, Greg had ended up leaning quite heavily on Mycroft, his breathing slightly laboured. Mycroft frowned as he stopped Greg just outside the entrance to the restaurant. “We don’t have to go in you know. I know it’s my birthday and you want to treat me, but I would not be able enjoy it knowing you are suffering because of it” Mycroft said gently, cupping Greg’s face. 

Greg was touched by the concern, but they were here now and he figured it would be a waste to just go home. “I’m fine really” Greg answered, pulling back from Mycroft with a flash of a bright smile that he didn’t feel. He turned and headed into the restaurant before Mycroft could protest anymore. 

They were quickly seated at their preferred table, a small little table for two nestled away in the far corner affording them complete privacy. Mycroft ordered the wine whilst Greg mused over the menu, which he did out of habit rather than any real need - he knew it by heart after all. As he glanced over the dishes on offer, he felt his stomach turn at the thought of having to eat. Maybe he should just order something small like a salad, but then again he didn’t want Mycroft to realise how bad he was actually feeling. So he settled on ordering his usual dish of seafood Tagliatelle whilst Mycroft ordered fettuccine Bolognese.

“So, how was your day?” Greg asked causally as the waiter removed their menus and finally left the pair alone.

“Fine, rather slow all things considered” Mycroft replied, not giving anything away. Greg knew Mycroft couldn’t go into details, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see that his partner had been stressed as of late, no doubt the East had been giving him trouble again. 

“Well, at least the world’s powers have settled down for one evening so that you can enjoy your birthday” Greg said, raising his glass and clinking it with Mycroft’s. He wondered if Anthea had anything to do with the other countries leaders seemingly behaving themselves for once - that woman could be downright scary when she wanted!

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else” Mycroft replied, taking a long drink of his wine. They settled into a comfortable conversation, Greg content just to listen to Mycroft talk. At some point he flagged down a waiter for some water, which earnt him a look from Mycroft. Greg, however, was quick to assure him that he just felt a little dry. He didn’t think that admitting that he felt like he was in the middle of the Sahara Desert would be a good idea. 

When their meals finally arrived, Greg knew he was in trouble. He had realised not long ago that his estimation that he was suffering from a bad cold had been slightly too optimistic. Instead, it felt like he was suffering from a full scale flu, one that wasn’t going to ease off anytime soon. Still, it wouldn’t take them too long for them to finish their meals, Greg was sure he could hold out long enough to get home and to bed.

He started to eat, trying to focus on Mycroft’s end of the conversation to distract himself from the way he was feeling. However, he quickly realised that he couldn’t really make out what Mycroft was saying because it sounded as though he were speaking underwater. He reached for his drink, hoping the cool liquid would bring him round a bit. Instead of his hand closing around the stem of his glass like he expected, he felt his fingers being gripped by Mycroft’s. He frowned as he tried to work out why Mycroft had grabbed his hand so forcefully. He also wondered why everything had gone all slanted, and why Mycroft looked to be shouting his name, frantically reaching for him. He didn’t even realise he had hit the floor.

***

Greg blinked blearily as he started to come to. The first thing he noticed was that he was lying down on something incredibly soft and comfortable, way too comfy for a hospital bed. As he blinked, the kaleidoscope of lights and colours in front of his eyes slowly started to take on more concrete shapes - one of which he recognised. He shifted, struggling to sit up and reach his partner. 

“Mycroft” he called out, voice coming out all croaky. Mycroft looked up suddenly from the paper he had been reading and quickly moved to sit next to Greg on the bed, taking his hand in his.

“Gregory, my darling” Mycroft said, squeezing Greg’s hand and offering him a drink of water. Greg took the drink, and with Mycroft’s help was able to reach a semi-sitting position. 

“What happened, where am I?” he asked, his voice a little less hoarse now. He tried to think through the fog that was clouding his head, but couldn’t remember anything after arriving at the restaurant. 

“At home, my dear, where you should be. You fainted in the restaurant, they wanted to call an ambulance but I knew you wouldn’t want to be taken to hospital. So I rang John and asked him to check you over. You’re suffering from the flu, the symptoms often come on strong and fast hence your sudden collapse. You’ll be fine in a couple of days, you just need to stay rested and hydrated” Mycroft explained, gently stroking Greg’s hair. 

Greg swallowed as he realised how stupid he had been. The one thing Mycroft didn’t want on his birthday was to have to see his partner suffer, which was exactly what had happened all because of his stubbornness to admit how ill he had been. Greg swallowed around the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday” he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek. 

“My darling, don’t be silly. There will be plenty more birthdays for us to celebrate together, the only thing I am care about is getting you better” he replied gently, giving Greg a tender kiss on the head.

“But I was so stupid. All I did was cause you to worry, and on your birthday as well” he replied with a broken voice, which this time it had nothing to do with his flu. 

Mycroft moved so that he was lying on the bed next to Greg. He carefully took a tissue and tenderly wiped the tears from his lovers face. “Hush now” he whispered, pulling Greg gently down so that he would be resting on Mycroft’s’ chest. Greg immediately responded by putting his arms around Mycroft’s middle, content to rest on his partner. 

“I know you thought you were doing the right thing by going to the restaurant. You wanted to make my birthday special, and for that I can’t be cross with you. What matters to me now is that you are okay, and that supersedes everything else I may be feeling. So please, stop blaming yourself for what happened earlier on tonight. Just promise me next time you won’t do something just because you want to please me” Mycroft said calmly, his hand stroking Greg's hair again. 

“I promise” Greg mumbled into Mycroft’s chest before adding, “stay with me tonight.”

Mycroft laughed, and Greg could feel it as a rumbling in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere my dear, this is our bed after all”. 

“I know, but I thought you might not want to share it seen as I’m probably contagious”

“I will always want to share a bed with you Gregory, no matter your condition” Mycroft replied, reaching to turn the bedside light off. “Now go to sleep, Gregory. I’ll be here when you wake up”

Greg let himself fall asleep to the sound and feel of Mycroft's' breathing. The thought of proposing momentarily forgotten - anymore plans would have to wait until he was better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect this chapter to be quite so fluffy, it just sort of happened! Hmmm, I suppose I'll have to make the next chapter a bit more angsty...


	4. Chapter 4

Greg laughed out loud along with the rest of the audience as the ugly stepsisters made their appearance on stage. Beside him, he could hear the faint chuckle of his partner, which was the Holmes equivalent of full on laughter. They were at the theatre watching the annual pantomime performance. This year it was Cinderella, which had always been one of Greg’s favourites – even though he would never admit to it. Despite being an excuse to go out for an evening, pantomime season was always a special time for Greg and Mycroft as it fell on their anniversary. Therefore, it had become somewhat of a tradition for them to celebrate another year together by attending the performance. Tonight would also be Greg’s third attempt at asking Mycroft to marry him and he was feeling pretty confident about it – after all, the saying was third time lucky.

He glanced over at his partner, who looked to be enjoying the performance going by the creases at the corner of his eyes. The sight of Mycroft Holmes not only watching, but thoroughly enjoying himself at a pantomime was a sight you would have to see in order to believe. Greg himself wasn’t quite sure how he had managed the feat of getting his partner to attend something so jovial and light-hearted. Well that wasn’t quite true, he remembered quite well how it had happened - even if it was a slightly embarrassing memory for him.

***

_It was their first anniversary together and Mycroft had surprised Greg with tickets to see Les Misérables. Although Greg wasn’t a huge fan of the theatre, he knew Mycroft loved to go and so he was more than happy to accompany him to the production. The only problem had been that on the day of the show, Greg had just finished wrapping up a particularly trying case which had left him utterly exhausted. Not wanting to disappoint his partner on their anniversary, he had drunk what felt like a week’s worth of coffee at the Yard before Mycroft picked him up and took him to the show. Riding a caffeine high, he had managed to make it through the first act of the play without so much as a yawn._

_Unfortunately, by the time the second act started the caffeine had worn off, leaving him battling to keep his eyes open. Just as “Little People” started to be sang, he found himself been carried away by the rather jovial tune. The next the thing he knew, he was looking at a deserted stage and a quickly emptying theatre. His confusion as to why everyone was hurrying out of the auditorium had quickly turned to panic. Jumping to his feet thinking something had happened, he had almost knocked his boyfriend out when he had felt a hand been placed on his arm. ___

_“Settle down, Gregory”, Mycroft had said, looking at him amusedly._

_“What’s happened? Why is everyone leaving” Greg had rushed out, still thinking something was amiss._

_“My dear, people do tend to leave when a show has ended” Mycroft explained patiently, a trace of humour in his voice._

_Greg blinked, realisation dawning on him that he had indeed fallen asleep during the show. “My, I’m so sorry” he started, but his boyfriend’s laughter quickly stopped him. “You aren’t mad at me?” Greg asked, confused at the way his partner was acting – he had been sure that Mycroft would have been annoyed at him for being so rude._

_“Not at all, if anything I’m sorry for making you sit through something you wouldn’t enjoy. However, I don’t think the actor’s on stage would feel the same way, especially since you snored rather loudly just as Éponine saved Marius’ life” Mycroft replied, humour continuing to lace his voice._

_Greg grimaced, “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve never really been a fan of the theatre, unless it’s pantomime of course” he confessed, rather sheepishly. Mycroft had pulled a face at the mention of the word pantomime, “I don’t think I’ve been to one” he admitted. Greg had laughed at the politician’s obvious disdain, “My darling, you’ve been missing out on a treat” he had said with a wink and a devious smile._

 _ _***__

 _ _

So that’s how, 5 years later, they found themselves watching as the dame helped Cinderella out by tripping up one of the ugly stepsisters. They were sat in their usual private box, which Mycroft insisted on having. If Greg were been honest, he would prefer to be sat in the main audience where all the manic energy was. Still, he couldn’t complain, they did have the best seats in the house. Suddenly, the lights went up as the dame in all her glory unexpectedly made her way into the audience, randomly picking on unsuspecting people to embarrass. As Greg laughed at a poor bloke who the dame had decided to comically hit on, he figured it was probably safer for them up here. After all, God help the person playing the dame if they decided to pick on Mycroft Holmes.

Thinking of Mycroft, he turned to face his partner whom he could now see in the sudden light. Mycroft was watching the proceedings below with avid interest, a smile lighting his face. “Enjoying yourself?” Greg asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes as Mycroft quickly schooled his features and replied “It’s not bad I suppose.” It had become a tradition for them to have Mycroft pretend he wasn’t overly interested in the panto, which always caused Greg to laugh endearingly. Greg continued to watch his boyfriend silently for a moment longer, before he reach out to lace their fingers together. 

“This really is perfect” Greg whispered, as he gave their hands a little squeeze. 

“I agree” Mycroft replied in an equally low tone of voice, before squeezing back in return. 

Greg gave his boyfriend a shy smile. Mycroft smiled back, both momentarily lost in each other, the chaos below them completely forgotten. A nervous energy shot through Greg as he realised now would be the perfect time to pop the question that had been on his lips for a long while now.

“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you” Greg said, hoping the nervousness he was feeling hadn’t crept into his voice. 

“Go ahead, Gregory. You know you can say anything to me” Mycroft replied, naturally picking up on Greg’s slight unease. Greg mentally rolled his eyes, of course Mycroft would notice his slight change in demeanour. 

“I know that, it’s just… Well, what I want to say is something that’s very important to me. It’s something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time”. 

Mycroft reached out with the hand that wasn’t occupied by Greg’s and tentatively cupped his partner’s cheek, gently caressing it was his thumb. Greg leaned into the touch, instinctively reaching up to tangle his free hand with the one cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he simply enjoyed the calm that had descended upon them. After what seemed like an eternity, Greg opened his eyes and found himself staring into the endless pools of blue that were his partner’s eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he marvelled at how beautiful Mycroft was. He took one final deep and steadying breath. 

“Myc-“ he started to say, before an incredibly loud cheer from below cut him off. The quiet spell that had been woven upon them broke, as they both looked down to see what had caused such a vivacious reaction. Below them, the dame was stood dabbing her eyes with a bright spotted handkerchief. A young women had just flung her arms around a man who was still down on one knee, joy obvious on both their faces. Greg didn’t have to be Holmes to work out what had happened and he smiled with happiness for the newly engaged couple. With a bit of luck, that would be him in a few minutes. 

He turned back to Mycroft who was still looking at the scene below, a strange look on his face.

“How pedestrian” he heard the elder Holmes mutter, before he turned back to look at Greg.

Greg felt his heart freeze, unsure if he had heard Mycroft right. “What did you just say” he asked a little too quick. Mycroft frowned at him, a little taken a back at Greg’s tone but Greg said nothing else. Instead he just waited to see what Mycroft would say, dreading the answer he knew he was going to get. 

“I was just remarking on the rather pedestrian scene unfolding below us” Mycroft replied carefully, unsure what Greg was expecting as an answer. In that instant, Greg felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over him. He swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat, another question on his lips. 

“Don’t you like the idea of marriage?” Greg asked, trying to keep his tone light. However, he was desperate to know whether he had been barking up the wrong tree for the past few months.

Mycroft took a moment to consider the question. “There’s nothing wrong with it I suppose, but I’ve always hated it how people make a show of it. Proposing at an event like this for example, why not just go down to a registry office and get married. At least then it's over and done with and no one else has to get involved". 

“Maybe some people think it’s romantic” Greg replied back, a bit too sharp.

“Hmm, I believe some people just like to be flamboyant and make an unnecessary show of things. Weddings are terrible inconveniences, and more often than not only descend into family arguments” Mycroft replied, his response coming quicker this time. 

Greg felt his heart drop at his partner’s words. Of course Mycroft wouldn’t be interested in marriage, whatever had given him the idea that he would be? His internal turmoil must have shown on his face as Mycroft tightened his grip on his hand. “Are you alright, Gregory?” 

“Of course, I’m fine” Greg replied, smiling in attempt to not give away how upset he was. After all, Mycroft didn’t know he was going to propose, therefore he couldn’t be mad at the man’s honest words. Furthermore, this was still their anniversary and the last thing he wanted to do was argue with the man he loved – even if said man could be insufferable at times. 

“You were going to say something” Mycroft prompted, looking concerned.

“Oh yeah, about that it was nothing” Greg answered, not sure what to say. He didn’t think telling Mycroft that he had been planning to be pedestrian and propose would be a good idea.

“Gregory” Mycroft admonished, a little edge of warning in his voice. Mycroft didn’t need amazing deductive skills to know he was been lied to. 

“Okay, it was a bit more than nothing but it can wait until we get home” Greg replied smoothly, although his partner still didn’t look convinced. Mycroft opened his mouth to reply, but just as he did the lights went down again as the dame got back up on stage to continue with the panto. Greg silently thanked whoever was in charge for giving him an excuse to end their current conversation. He turned his attention back to the stage and after a moment Mycroft did the same. 

On stage, Cinderella was just meeting her fairy godmother who would help her get to the ball. Greg still hadn't let go of Mycroft's hand from when he had grabbed it earlier. Slowly, he gave their tangled fingers a squeeze, hoping that Mycroft got the message that everything was alright. Mycroft returned the gesture, and Greg settled back to watch the rest of the panto - even if his heart was aching desperately.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I did promise you a little bit of angst, (I know I can be evil)! It took me a while to get this chapter to a point where I was happy with it so I hope it lives up to expectations. I do have slightly better news in that I've nearly finished the next chapter already (I know right, it's been a productive weekend writing this instead of Uni work)! So I might even have the next update in a few days...


	5. Chapter 5

Greg sighed as the words on his computer blurred into each other for the umpteenth time. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to bring them back into focus. To say the whole day had been a nightmare was an understatement. It hadn’t started brilliantly when he received a phone call at 4am about a break in which had resulted in the death of a young women. He had arrived at the scene 30 minutes later, after reluctantly pulling himself out of the warmth of his lovers' embrace, to find that somehow Sherlock was already there and had managed to piss off most of his team. Before Greg had even had a chance to ask the detective what he was doing, Sherlock had taken off muttering about having a murderer to catch. 

Now, 15 hours later, Greg was sat at his desk filling a mountain of paperwork pertaining to the now closed case. When Greg had finally caught up with Sherlock later that morning, it was obvious that the break in had indeed been the set up to a murder. Therefore, they had spent the best part of the day in gruelling chase through London before managing to apprehend the killer- who turned out to be a jealous ex-boyfriend. The day had left Greg completely exhausted, and as he signed another form he found himself desperately wishing he could be at home. 

A knock sounded from the doorway, breaking Greg’s reverie. He looked up in time to see Sherlock enter the room. “Look Sherlock, if you’re here about another case I’ve already told you, I can’t give you any more until I’ve sorted out this mess” Greg said exasperatedly at, pointing at his paperwork for emphasis. The headache that he had been trying to stave off all day was now coming back with a vengeance. 

“I’m not here about any cases Lestrade” Sherlock said swiftly, sitting himself down in the chair across the desk. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a packet of paracetamol which he handed to the inspector. Greg raised an eyebrow, which was a mistake as it caused another bolt of pain to shoot through his head. 

“Take two Lestrade, for this conversation to be worthwhile you’ll need to be able to concentrate on something other than your headache” Sherlock said flippantly, patiently waiting for him take the tablets. Greg downed them in one go, grimacing at the bitter taste they left in his mouth. He lent back in his chair for a moment and closed his eyes. Whatever Sherlock was here for it must be important. Still, if he wasn’t here to interfere with any of his cases surely it could have at least waited until he finished work. As he started to feel the pain behind his temples recede, he mentally steeled himself for whatever it was that Sherlock had in store for him.

“So Sherlock, what is that you want?” Greg asked, the sooner he dealt with this, the sooner he could go home. 

“I was informed by John that you are intending to propose to my brother” Sherlock replied, matter-of-factly. If the pain in his head had been starting to ease off, it decided to come back with a vengeance. Greg groaned and placed his head in his heads. To say that he wasn’t expecting that was an understatement. He hadn’t even been aware that Sherlock had known about his plans, although he supposed he had always known he would find out eventually. Greg stayed silent, completely unprepared for this conversation. 

“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Well then, why is it that several months later, there are still no sound of wedding bells?” Sherlock asked, whether he was irritated or disappointed Greg couldn’t tell. 

“Sherlock, if you’re here to give me your blessing or give me the shovel talk it really doesn’t matter. There aren’t going to be any wedding bells because there isn’t going to be a wedding!” Greg answered, his voice rising slightly.

“Mycroft refused?” Sherlock said with a frown, his brow furrowed.

“No, not exactly. I’ve decided that asking your brother to marry me would be a stupid idea”

“What did he do?” Sherlock asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I’m sorry?” Greg asked, taken aback by Sherlock’s sudden change in demeanour. The younger Holmes brother looked genuinely sad, as he sat opposite Greg with a frown across his face and a dullness in his normally bright eyes. It wasn’t often that Sherlock made his emotions so obvious, especially if the cause of his feelings had something to do with his brother. Despite, their stormy relationship Greg knew that Sherlock cared deeply for Mycroft – hence the reason why he was here now. Still, he couldn’t quite believe that the cause of Sherlock’s sudden sadness was the fact that he was no longer intending to propose to his brother. If anything, he had expected him to throw a fit at the prospect of their marriage. 

“What did he do that put you off asking him to marry you?” Sherlock asked again, any trace of sadness now gone. Greg stared at him for a minute, contemplating the best way to handle this. 

“Nothing, at least not the first two times” Greg finally replied, deciding to be honest. It was true, the first two attempts had failed because of factors completely outside of his control. Some people might have taken that as a sign that perhaps marriage wasn’t right for them, but Greg had never been a big believer in fate and coincidences. Hence the reason why it hadn’t deterred him from his plans. 

“What about the third?” Sherlock pushed, causing Greg to sigh as the memory of the pantomime resurfaced in his mind. 

“Let’s just say Mycroft made his feelings on marriage quite clear” Greg said, it was the politest way he think of putting what had happened. It wasn’t that the pantomime had changed anything in terms of their relationship. After all, Mycroft hadn’t even known what Greg had been planning, so it wasn’t as if their love for each had decreased in any way. No, the two of them were still as strong as ever. It was just that Greg had to accept that he would never be able to call Mycroft his husband, and if he was been honest that had been harder thing to do than he thought it would be. 

“My brother is an idiot” Sherlock muttered to himself, as he gazed intently at the floor over his steepled fingers. 

The inspector smiled softly at that. “Yeah, well it doesn’t matter. I’d rather just move on and forget about the whole thing.” 

Sherlock looked up at him then, pinning the inspector with his sharp gaze. Greg, who had long since grown accustomed to the deductive glare of a Holmes, decided to meet his gaze with one of his own. Sherlock smirked at that, before he abruptly stood. 

“You know it will be Christmas soon. In light of recent events, mummy will be asking all of us to attend the family home to spend the holiday together. For once, no will be unable to excuse themselves from the ordeal”. 

“Okay…” Greg replied, confused by the sudden change in topic. The Holmes family Christmas was something of a legend to Greg. Although he knew that every year he and Mycroft were invited to attend, each time without fail something would come up to prevent them from going. Whenever Greg asked about it, Mycroft would simply say it was better that Greg hadn’t had to face the delights of a Christmas with his family before changing the conversation. 

Sherlock nodded as he made his way towards the door, continuing to speak a mile a minute. “You’ve never been to the grounds, they really are beautiful. The house is out in the country, surrounded by acres and acres of fields. It even has its own lake with a lovely little bridge going across it. Truly a spectacle to see, especially at night when it is all lit up”. Greg listened to Sherlock, not sure where he was taking this conversation but still enjoying learning a bit about where he and Mycroft grew up. It was shame that in all the years he had been with Mycroft, he had yet to see the house himself - but by the sounds of it that would soon be changing. As Sherlock reached the door, he turned back to look at Greg.

“Mycroft has always found the lake romantic, even though he’ll never admit to it. When he was younger, I found him sat writing there a couple of times. He used to sit right in the middle of the bridge watching the swans. When I asked him what he was doing he would refuse to tell me and storm off. Still, that didn’t stop me from sneaking into his room in the evenings to see what he was being so secretive about. Turns out he had been writing love poems, hard to believe I know. It will be the perfect place for you to propose to him”. 

Greg, who had been enjoying hearing about Mycroft’s secret passion for writing poems, jumped at Sherlock’s mention of a proposal. 

“Sherlock! Have you not been listening to what I’ve been saying?” He all but shouted out of exasperation. 

“Yes I have, and that is why I am telling you about the perfect place for you to propose".

“Mycroft doesn’t want to get married!”

“Do you love him?”

"What?” Greg exclaimed, fast becoming tired of the changes in conversation. 

“Answer the question” Sherlock replied, rather curtly. 

“Yes! Of course I do. I love him more than anything… I don’t know what I’d do without him” Greg admitted, emotion suddenly welling up in his chest at his admission.

“Good, and he loves you just as much. So bring the ring with you to the house when you come up for Christmas”.

“Sherlock…” Greg sighed. Although he knew that Sherlock meant well, he wasn’t sure if asking Mycroft to marry me him would be a good idea. 

“Listen, Lestrade I know what my brother is like and how is liable to act in certain situations. This relationship he has with you is so far outside of his comfort zone, it’s hard to comprehend. Do you think he would have taken such a risk for anybody? For once in his life, he has allowed himself to have something that he undoubtedly feels he shouldn’t. If anything, he probably won’t allow himself to think of having anything more. Consider this Greg, Mycroft doesn’t always say what he means – especially when he is trying to protect himself” Sherlock finished, before exiting the room and leaving a shocked Greg in his wake. 

Greg sat stunned, not least because Sherlock had gotten his name right first time. Thinking about it, what Sherlock had said did make a lot of sense. Up to this point, Greg had never really thought about it from Mycroft’s point of view. He knew, of course, that their relationship meant a lot to the elder Holmes. For once in his life, Mycroft had allowed someone outside of his family to see beneath his cold, ice-man façade. Yes, it had taken Greg a long time to crack through his protective outer shell, but when he did he had found an incredibly kind and caring man, someone who thoroughly deserved to be loved. 

Therefore, the more Greg thought about it the more Mycroft’s reaction at the pantomime made sense. In a weird Holmes way, pretending to be indifferent to marriage may have just been Mycroft’s way of protecting himself from the disappointment of him never actually having the joy of a wedding. Greg let his head fall into his hands. “Bloody hell, Greg. What an idiot you’ve been!” he said to himself, as he felt all everything start to fall into place.

“Yes, you are” Greg heard from the doorway, the unexpected voice causing him to jump out of his skin.

“Sherlock!” Greg admonished, glaring at Sherlock’s head which was poking around the door.

“I forgot to mention that if you do ever hurt my brother, I know at least 10 different ways of making a person disappear - some more painful than others” he finished with a smile before leaving again.

Greg stared at the space Sherlock’s head had just occupied before letting out a short bark of laughter. He probably shouldn’t laugh at being threatened by a Holmes, but he couldn't help it. It really was the strangest shovel talk he had ever gotten. Then again, when is anything ever normal when you’re dealing with a Holmes? Greg thought to himself, shaking his head and smiling at the prospect of his first Christmas with the Holmes family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had hoped to get this chapter up sometime last week but unfortunately real life got in the way (damn it)! Still, I hope you enjoyed it :)!


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas with the Holmes was everything that Greg had expected and more. Although this was his first time at the Holme's estate, he had been immediately welcomed as if he were an old friend. Upon their arrival on the 23rd, Mrs Holmes had wasted no time in giving Greg a hug and telling him that he should call her mummy. Greg, taken aback by the unexpected forwardness, had looked at Mycroft for help. His partner, however, had feigned ignorance by shrugging his shoulders at the display. When Greg asked him about his aloofness later that night, he had merely said that Greg had wanted the full experience of Christmas with his family, which Greg supposed was true. 

After all, it hadn’t exactly been plain sailing actually getting to the house. The day they were due to leave for the family home, Mycroft had tried to get out of it by claiming a crisis in the Middle East, which would have conveniently kept him in London over the holidays. Greg, however, had predicted such a move and had made sure that if there were such an emergency Anthea would contact him confirming Mycroft’s story. When she didn’t, Greg had known Mycroft was trying to weasel out of it. So naturally he had confronted his partner about it, much to the latter's chagrin. Still, the elder Holmes did confess to his attempt to bail out of the festivities and decided to try to convince Greg that they would be much better off staying in London for the holidays. Greg was having none of it and when common reason wouldn’t sway Mycroft, he pulled out the big guns and promised he wouldn’t engage in any romantic contact for a month if Mycroft refused to go to his parents for Christmas. When Mycroft realised that Greg was being deadly serious, he had begrudgingly got into the car and allowed Greg to drive him to the Holmes estate. 

The evening of their arrival, Mycroft had given Greg a tour of the grounds which included taking him up to see the lake Sherlock had previously described to him. When Greg saw it with his own eyes, he had been left stunned by how beautiful it was. The lake was a decent size and had bridge going across it to connect the two shores. Someone had adorned the bridge with little fairy lights which shone onto the water making the surface glimmer in the fading light. Greg could see why Mycroft had used to use this place as an escape – being quite a way from the house itself, it afforded maximum privacy for someone not wanting to be found. Greg had to concede Sherlock was right about it been the perfect place for a proposal. The thought of a proposal sent a nervous shiver through Greg. Before leaving London,he had indeed slipped the ring into his coat pocket. But that by no means meant that he was going to use it, he was still undecided if proposing was the right thing to do despite Sherlock's little lecture a few weeks ago. 

Once the tour had finished, they had returned to the house to find that Sherlock and John had arrived. Mrs Holmes gave John the same welcome she had given Greg, which caused the inspector to chuckle at the soldier’s discomfort. To both John’s and Greg’s surprise to the two brother actually appeared to be nice to each other, something that Greg had thought impossible. 

Christmas Eve had passed by in a blur and before Greg knew it, he was being woken up on Christmas morning to very insistent kisses being pressed to his neck. The morning had passed by rather amicably, with presents been exchanged all around. The dinner too was actually rather enjoyable and Greg had found himself wondering why they hadn’t done this before. When it came to pulling the crackers, Greg had tried to get Mycroft to wear the hat, only to be met by the latter threatening to start World War 3 if he did. For the most part, they boys had behaved themselves. Of course, the two couldn’t always help themselves from taking a thinly veiled swipe at each other, but mainly they had engaged in harmless banter. 

Now, as dinner ended, Greg found himself been hurried into the living room by a very merry Mrs Holmes, who had decided it would be fun to get the family albums out. For once, both Sherlock and Mycroft were in agreement with each other, as they both exclaimed how terrible an idea getting the albums out was and even suggested playing charades instead – despite their mutual dislike of parlour games. Mrs Holmes, however, paid them no heed and so here John and Greg were, several hours later, on their 3rd album. 

The pair both laughed as John turned the page and yet another childhood photo of the two Holmes brothers stared up at them. This time, they boys were at the seaside and Sherlock had his arms wrapped around his brother in an uncharacteristic show of sibling affection. Sherlock sat stoic, glaring every time John let out laugh or coo. Mycroft was doing the same to Greg, although beneath every glare his lover could see the self-depreciation he was levelling at himself because over the slightly overweight photos of him. 

As they finished the album, Mrs Holmes got up to get them another drink claiming that looking at photos was thirsty work. Greg took the opportunity to move and sit next to his partner, who wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Gently, Greg reached out and tilted Mycroft’s face towards his. “Your gorgeous you know” Greg whispered, before giving him a slow kiss, careful to keep it light in front of the family. When he pulled away, he could see a faint blush had crept up Mycroft’s face which made Greg chuckle and caused him to give him another kiss. 

Sherlock made a retching noise at the display of affection, for which John smacked him over the head with a pillow. “Well, aren’t you two just adorable” Violet cooed as she sat the tray of drinks down on the table. “The next thing you know we will be hearing wedding bells, Siger” she remarked, as she handed her husband a drink. Greg felt his heart stop at the mention of marriage. He quickly shot Sherlock a look and saw John looking equally as worried at the younger Holmes, who now looked like the cat who got the cream.

“Mummy, don’t say things like that” Mycroft admonished, although he shifted uncomfortably at the mention of marriage. Greg smiled as Violent handed him a drink, although it was a smile he certainly didn’t feel. 

“Why on earth not, Mikey? If I want to see my son get married I have every right to say so” Violet replied, looking sternly at Mycroft. She turned to Greg and said in a kinder tone, “you should try asking him dear, heavens knows he won’t be the one to ask you”. Greg nodded his head slightly, unsure of what to do. He chanced a glance at Mycroft who looked furious – whether it was because of the use of his nickname or the conversation in general he couldn’t tell.

“Mummy! Myself and Gregory are perfectly happy as we are. Besides, if Gregory really wanted to get married I am sure he would have said something by now” Mycroft shot back, annoyance marring his features. 

A deep chuckle sounded across the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well, I’m glad somebody is finding this situation amusing, brother mine” Mycroft bit out at Sherlock, the temporary truce that had settled between seemingly vanishing in that instant.

“Don’t be slow, Mycroft” Sherlock interjected almost lazily, looking at Greg over the wine he had just been given, a small smile playing on his face. Greg felt a sensation of uneasiness unfurl in his stomach as he realised how this was going to end. He shot John a panicked a look, whilst he tried to diffuse the situation at his end by placing a calming hand his boyfriends arm. If he could just distract Mycroft long enough, he might be able to steer the conversation to less choppy waters. 

“Sherlock, I hardly think you can call me slow” Mycroft replied, ignoring the hand that settled on his arm. 

“Really, because from where I’m sitting you look awfully slow” Sherlock drawled, shifting his gaze to his brother.

“Boys, its Christmas day.” Violet chastised, but that did nothing to thaw the icy glare the brothers were now directing at each other. 

“Sherlock, leave it” John hissed, sensing Greg's discomfort and hoping the younger Holmes would listen to him instead. 

“No, I don’t believe I will John. After all, it’s not me who’s being the idiot” Sherlock replied, leaving John looking back at Greg, helpless to derail the argument. 

“Pray tell, brother mine how did you come to that conclusion?” Mycroft sneered.

“Mycroft” Greg warned desperately, attempting once again to distract his partner before Sherlock revealed everything. 

“It’s amazing you missed it really” Sherlock continued, enjoying goading his brother. 

“Missed what Sherlock?” 

“It’s shocking you’ve been so blind”

“Sherlock, what are you blabbering on about!” Mycroft all but shouted, his patience now having worn too thin. 

“Even now, you can’t work it out”

“Sherlock!” 

“Lestrade’s been trying to propose to you for months” Sherlock exclaimed, a smug look on his face which Greg instantly found himself wanting to punch. A ringing silence filled the room as the weight of Sherlock’s words began to settle in. Greg stared into his drink as he felt a heavy atmosphere starting to descend, that was until Mycroft bellowed out a laugh. “My, my, brother mine, you really are scraping the barrel for ideas”. 

“Mycroft” Sherlock cautioned whilst frowning, clearly not expecting this reaction from his brother. 

“Do you have any idea how absurd that is Sherlock! I think if my own partner was trying to propose to me I would know” Mycroft laughed, finally directing a look at Greg who up until now had remained quiet. Greg felt his partners gaze settle on him, but found himself unable to look up. In truth, the only thing he wanted right now was a hole to open up in the floor into which he could fall. After several seconds of silence, he heard Mycroft call his name softly. This time he did look up, albeit reluctantly, as he knew the moment he did his partner would put it all together. He heard rather than saw Mycroft’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of his anguished face. 

“The penny drops” Sherlock commented, followed by a pained sound as John hit him with the cushion again, this time a lot harder. 

"When? How?” Mycroft breathed, as he continued to look at Greg’s pained expression, all the emotions he had been feeling for the last several months openly showing on the inspectors face. 

Greg found himself unable to answer, his mouth having suddenly gone dry. He felt his throat constrict as a sense of nausea washed over him. He shook his head, as he tried to force out a reply, but his voice refused to cooperate. 

“Oh, my darling” Mycroft reached out to cup Greg’s face but the inspector jerked away leaving Mycroft’s hand hovering mid-air. It was then that Greg realised how quiet the room had gone. He looked around to find that everyone’s gaze directed at him. Sherlock was sat watching the proceedings with an avid interest. John was sat next to him, an apologetic look on his face. Violet and Siger both looked sadly at the inspector, giving him a knowing look. 

It was then that something snapped inside Greg. He could no longer take it, all their pitying stares. He had to get away, even if was only so he could breathe again. He stood up, wobbling slightly at the sudden rush of emotion. Mycroft jumped up in an attempt to steady him, but Greg clumsily stepped back from the touch. “I’m sorry” he whispered, his voice refusing to go any higher. “I’m sorry, Mycroft” he said again, not quite sure what he was apologizing for but needing to nevertheless. Greg turned and all but ran out of the room and out through the French doors at the back of the house. 

The sudden rush of cold, winter air struck him as ran away from the house, but he barely felt it as a rush of shame and embarrassment flooded through him. “Gregory!” he heard Mycroft shout after him, but his voice was faint over the sound of his wind in his ears and he ignored it. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop running away from the cause of his pain. As the lights from the house gradually receded into the distance, he finally began to feel the sting of the wind biting into his cheeks – at least that what he told himself the stinging sensation was.


	7. Chapter 7

A cool breeze blew gently through the quiet night, sending a small shiver up Greg’s back. He was lent against the side of the bridge, looking solemnly out onto the lake. He sighed as he gazed at the moonlight reflecting gently off the surface of the water. He didn’t know how long he had been stood there, only that it must have been a while because he could feel his legs starting to seize from being stood in one position for too long. He supposed he would have to move soon, he imagined everyone would be getting worried back at the house. Still, the thought of having to go back there made his stomach churn. He really wasn’t ready to face their pitying looks again, hence the reason why he was still stood freezing by the lake, contemplating how he was going to resolve the situation. 

It wasn’t that he was angry with Mycroft, not really. Yes, he had acted like an idiot, but Greg couldn’t find it in his heart to be truly mad at the man. That honour belonged to Sherlock, who Greg had regretted not punching on his way out. He also regretted not grabbing his coat, as the night had taken a rather cold turn. As warm as the jumper he had on was, each time the wind blew it seemed to cut though all the layers he was wearing, leaving him shivering in the cold. 

As he moved his weight from one foot to the other in an effort to keep warm, he felt a small object shift in his pocket. He sighed as he reluctantly took the ring out, holding it delicately in the palm of his hand. This was the fourth time that he had planned to propose, and the fourth time that it had gone wrong. Earlier that day - whilst everyone had been occupied with the festivities - Greg had snuck upstairs to the room he shared with Mycroft and had slipped the ring into his trouser pocket, resolving to ask Mycroft if the right opportunity arose. Well, the opportunity had definitely arose, Greg thought bitterly. His hand clenched around the ring, might as well throw it into the lake, it wasn’t as though he would be needing it now. He got as far as drawing his arm back to throw the ring away, before he caught himself. Who was he kidding, he couldn’t throw it away – even if he had really wanted to. Instead, he slipped it back into his pocket before burying his head into his hands – what the hell was going to do now?

The sound of a person approaching drew him from his reverie. Greg felt his heart clench as he knew there was only one person who it could be. He felt his chest start to get tight again, and his hands began to shake. He tried to focus on getting his breathing back under control, but when he heard the sound of steps on the bridge he found himself frozen to the spot, unable to turn around. 

The footsteps eventually came to a stop and Greg could feel the warmth radiating off the person stood directly behind him. He felt a coat being draped gently over his shoulders, the fabric still warm from the person who had just been wearing it. A pair of arms tentatively encircled him, as his partner laid his head on his shoulder.

“You know, when I was young I used to come up here every time that I was upset or just wanted to get away from it all” Mycroft mumbled against Greg, lacing their fingers together. Greg swallowed as a rush of emotion coursed through him. 

“I found this place mesmerising, I would spend hours just sat right here, writing poetry or watching the birds”. Greg listened to his partner, allowing the soothing words to wash over him. Gradually, he felt himself beginning to calm down. 

“Sometimes, Sherlock would find me here, demanding to know what I was up to. I never told him of course, but he would still sneak into my room to try and find out anyway”. Greg let out a rattling breath at the thought of Sherlock, images from earlier on in the evening flashing through his mind once again. 

“My Gregory” Mycroft murmured. Softly, he kissed Greg’s ear and nuzzled into the crook of his partners’ neck, trying to elicit some sort of response from the inspector. Another flurry of emotions surged through Greg at Mycroft’s gestures, the suppressed emotions from the last few months finally spilling out into the open. Unbeknownst to him, several tears had slipped from his eyes, dropping onto the bridge and their joined hands. He felt Mycroft squeeze him tighter. “You cooked me dinner, and work called me away” the elder Holmes whispered as he carefully pulled Greg down to the ground, so that he was sitting between his legs. 

“You treat me to a birthday dinner, but came down ill” Mycroft continued. One of his hands had found its way into Greg’s hair, tenderly stroking the grey locks. Greg involuntarily lent back into the touch, succumbing to his emotions, far too tired to protest anymore. 

“We went to the pantomime and I was a fool” Mycroft finished, as he kissed the tears that had fallen down Greg’s face. A sob broke free from Greg’s chest, part relief and part anguish that his secret was finally out. 

“Shush, why are you crying?” Mycroft said softly, his hand tightening on Greg’s.

“Come on My, you know why” Greg stammered out, not quite trusting his voice. Greg drew another shaky breath, “I’m sorry” he whispered brokenly.

“I believe if there is anyone who should be apologizing, it is me” Mycroft replied solemnly. 

“Or your brother” Greg quipped, causing Mycroft to chuckle slightly. 

“Hmm, yes but I’d rather not mention him right now” 

“I suppose not” Greg sighed, leaning even further back into his partner, enjoying the comfort he brought. 

“Gregory, I’m so sorry” Mycroft said, his voice full of sincerity. 

“Could I have that in writing” Greg joked, not quite believing that Mycroft actually knew how to apologize. 

“Gregory…” Mycroft started, the frown evident in his voice. 

Greg cut him off before he could say anymore. “Look, My let’s just forget about the whole thing.” 

Mycroft made a pained noise, and for the first time since he had arrived at the bridge, Greg turned around to look at his partner. Greg felt his breath catch in his throat as he took in the sight of Mycroft. The normally calm and collected man looked anything but if the lines that surrounded his eyes were anything to go by. His face was full of anguish and in the time between Greg running from the house and now, his lover appeared to have aged a lifetime. 

“What if I don’t want to forget?” Mycroft breathed, so softly Greg almost didn’t catch it.

“Mycroft…” Greg started slowly, unsure about how to proceed.

“I don’t want to forget” Mycroft asserted, cupping Greg’s face with his hands.

Greg felt his heart stop. He knew that should have been happy, ecstatic with joy at what Mycroft’s words implied. But something was niggling at Greg, something that didn’t feel right which was preventing him from enjoying the moment. Greg gently reached up to pull Mycroft’s hands away from his face, ignoring the flash of hurt that crossed his lovers' face. 

“Mycroft, as much as I want this I don’t want you to do this out of sympathy for me” Greg said, trying to convey his feelings to the elder Holmes without hurting him. Mycroft stayed silent for a long time, and for a second Greg thought he had done the wrong thing - the distraught look on his partners face was something Greg wished he would never have to see again. 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time” Mycroft finally admitted, looking down into his lap. “But I thought that you wouldn’t want to marry again, so I pretended I was indifferent to it. I thought that would make it easier for you, I didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything”. 

The silence that followed Mycroft’s admission was quickly broken by Greg’s laughter. Mycroft looked back up at his partner, scowling as tears rolled down Greg’s cheeks again.  
“Mycroft Holmes, you really are an idiot” Greg chuckled wiping his eyes, as he met his partners’ unimpressed gaze. But the gaze was soon replaced by one of surprise and then adoration as Greg mirrored Mycroft’s earlier movements by reaching out and cupping his face. 

“Gregory” Mycroft breathed, his eyes fluttering closed, “ask me”. 

“Are you sure?” Greg asked as he stroked his partner’s cheek. 

“My darling, please” Mycroft replied, opening his eyes so that they locked with Greg’s. Greg was taken aback the sheer amount of love those dazzling blue eyes were directing towards him own chocolate brown ones. Taking a deep breath, Greg reached back into his pocket and pulled and the ring. 

The ring immediately caught the moonlight, making it appear to glow in the dark night. Greg took a steadying breath, before looking back up at his partner. Greg found that his focus had narrowed down to just one point, Mycroft. A gentle breeze blew ruffling the inspector’s hair. It was then that Greg, with the rustling of wind in his ears and the soothing lapping of the lake in the background, finally uttered the words that he had been wanting to say for months. 

“Mycroft Holmes, would you do me honour of becoming my husband.” 

“Yes” Mycroft replied, almost instantly. He immediately reached for Greg, pulling him into a somewhat clumsy, but absolutely perfect kiss. Greg’s hand shook as he slipped the ring on Mycroft’s finger, tears once again spilling from his eyes. This time, though, they were happy tears and Greg laughed as Mycroft quickly pulled him back into another devastating kiss. 

When they finally broke apart for air, Greg couldn’t stop laughing. Mycroft too let out a chuckle at the sprawled out state that they were both in. “Did you ever think when you were little, that one day you would be doing this here - right on the spot where you wrote poetry?” Greg whispered, as he nipped gently at Mycroft’s neck, being careful not to leave marks. 

“I never thought I would be that lucky” Mycroft replied, a little breathlessly. 

“I love you” Greg whispered against his fiancé’s lips, continuing to steal little kisses as Mycroft regained his breath. The thought he could now call Mycroft his fiancé sending a little thrill through him.

“I love you too” Mycroft replied, now having caught his breath. Greg laughed wholeheartedly, before proceeding to steal it away again. 

***  
“Now Greg, do remember to let us know when you two have settled on a date for the big day” Mrs Holmes said firmly, before engulfing Greg in a massive hug. “I promise we will” Greg replied as he returned the warm embrace. 

“As for you young man, you need to learn some manners. You’re very lucky Greg asked you to marry him at all given your performance the other night” Mrs Holmes, said whilst waggling a finger sternly at Mycroft. 

“Yes, mummy” he replied, somewhat feebly before giving his mother a hug. 

Greg shook his head at the display as he loaded the last of their bags into the car. Who would have thought that all it would take to make the British Government fall to its knee’s was a telling off from its mother. As Greg closed the boot of the car, he found himself thinking fondly over that last few days. To say they had passed in a blur would be an understatement. After arriving back at the house late on Christmas night, it had taken Sherlock less than 5 seconds to smugly announce that Mrs Holmes would be getting the wedding she had wanted after all. This had led Greg to apologize profusely to both Mrs Holmes and John, before proceeding to punch Sherlock straight in the face. That little altercation had resulted in an entirely understanding John taking an incredibly confused Sherlock straight to A and E with a suspected broken nose, leaving Greg and Mycroft to finish the rest of the holiday at the Holmes estate in peace.

“I hate to hurry things, but we really need to be going now if we want to miss the traffic” Greg said, as he made his way to the drivers’ side of the car. “Of course, Gregory” Mycroft replied, before giving his parents one last goodbye and getting in the car. As Greg pulled the car away, they both gave a last little wave to Mr and Mrs Holmes, before settling in for the long drive back to London. 

“So, have you thought of any dates yet?” Greg asked, as he took a quick glance over at Mycroft. 

“Hmm, I have always found the notion of getting married in the winter to be rather poetic” Mycroft replied, his face a picture of contemplation. 

“Yeah, but that means waiting at least another year!” Greg exclaimed, horrified by the prospect of having to wait once again. 

“Well then, Gregory, you should have asked me sooner” Mycroft remarked cheekily, earning him a quick slap on the thigh. 

“Watch the road, my dear. I’d hate for there to be any more mishaps” Mycroft chuckled, as he laced his fingers with the hand Greg was using to change gears. Greg gave their hands a little squeeze, before turning his full attention back to the road. It might be a while before they officially tied the knot, but for the time being Greg was content to wait, happy with the knowledge that they were finally on the same page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there we go, another story finished. I really hope you enjoyed reading it, I had a great time writing it - even if bits did hurt to write!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments – they really help give me motivation. I’m not sure when or if I will be writing another story – I seem to be lacking inspiration. But if anyone has any ideas or something they would like to see with this pairing let me know and I’ll see if I can write something!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be made weekly, (I've designated Saturday as a writing day so hopefully I should be able to stick to this schedule). Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are hugely appreciated - your feedback really helps me a lot so let me know what you think!


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